


Losing the Battle and the War

by sinfuldesire_archivist



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angst, Drama, Established Relationship, Humor, Hurt/Comfort, Pre-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-04-02
Updated: 2007-04-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 09:11:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8706427
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sinfuldesire_archivist/pseuds/sinfuldesire_archivist
Summary: It's all fun and games until someone gets hurt.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Note from the Sinful Desire archivists: this story was originally archived at [Sinful-Desire.org](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Sinful_Desire). To preserve the archive, we began importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in November 2016. We e-mailed all creators about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this creator, please contact us using the e-mail address on [Sinful Desire collection profile](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/sinfuldesire/profile).

  
Author's notes: Part of the Bobby!John 'verse.  
John (Age 36), Dean (Age 10), Sammy (age 6)   


* * *

“Do you think we can take it by surprise?” Dean asked. The noise was almost deafening this close and he wanted to cover his ears.

 

“Yeah,” Sam nodded. “But you know what dad says about sleeping dogs. Maybe we should wait for dad. He’d know what to do.”

 

“No, Sammy,” Dean shook his head. There was another rumble from the living room that nearly shook the walls. “We have to learn how to do this on our own.”

 

Sammy’s face screwed up. “It’s not being very stealfy, is it?”

 

“Stealthy, Sammy. The word’s stealthy…and you’re right.” Dean poked his head around the corner. “I don’t see it either. Could be a trap.”

 

“Are you sure we shouldn’t have some weapons? Like a water gun full of holy water or something?” Sam asked, inching closer to Dean as their target became louder.

 

“No, holy water won’t work on this beast,” Dean shook his head. “We have to take it down ourselves. No weapons… just our bare hands!” 

 

Sammy nodded his head, face becoming very serious. “How ya wanna do it? Split up, you cover one side and I’ll cover the other one?” There was a sudden lack of noise followed by a loud creak. Sammy’s eyes went comically wide and he threw a hand over his mouth to keep from yelping.

 

Dean crouched down and held his finger in front of his mouth to indicate that Sammy should be quiet. He motioned with his hand that they would take the beast together. He leaned in close to Sammy and whispered, "We go together, Sammy. If it gets us, remember... I want you to have my .22."

 

Dean jumped when Sammy’s hand slipped into his. There was a nervous look on his little brother’s face and he gave the small pudgy hand a little squeeze. “Don’t be a baby, Sammy. Let’s go.”

 

In unison they launched themselves over the back of the couch, even though Sammy had to use the stepping stool Dean had put there for him earlier that morning. When they landed, there was a loud umph and groan from the beast. "It's awake, Sammy!" Dean called out.

 

There was a high pitched Sammy-sounding squeal and then Dean’s face was being pressed down into the soft cushion of the couch. There was a bunch of wiggling, several sharp words that wore down to Bobby-laughter, and then Sam was squealing again. “He’s got me! Oh, Dean, help me! He’s got me!” This was punctuated by giggling and hiccups from his little brother. Finally, Dean twisted himself out from underneath Bobby’s grip and looked up into Sammy’s tear-streaked and reddened face. “Stop h-h-him, Dean! He’s t-t-t-ticklin’ me!”

 

Dean had to defend his little brother. He attached himself to Bobby's back and started to tickle the older man himself. "Take me instead, you beast!"

 

The Bobby-monster gave a growl and loosened his hold on Sammy, instead turning around to fully lift Dean up and over top of him, tossing him down into the middle of the sofa. One huge paw lifted Dean’s shirt up and then a mouth was blowing a raspberry into his stomach. Dean cried out, half in shock and half in laughter and his hands pushing at Sammy. “G-go. Run, Sammy! Get reinforcements!”

 

“No… Dean, I can’t leave you!” Sammy cried out.

 

“Save yourself!” Dean called out melodramatically, followed by a fit of laughter.

 

“Oh, oh oh oh! I know what to do!” Sammy started to untangle himself from behind Dean and scrambled to get his feet on the floor. He stumbled and hit the coffee table, wincing. “I’ll destroy the magic brew! That should make him lose his powers!”

 

"Oh no!" Bobby yelled out. He knew exactly what the little hellion was thinking. He got up with Dean still plastered to his back. "John! Save the beer from your brat!"

 

“Hurry, Sammy! I can’t stop him!” came Dean’s loud shout as he the youngest Winchester rounded the corner towards the mudroom where the extra refrigerator held the beer. His sock clad feet slid across the linoleum floor and he reached out to grab at the door frame, his legs giving out beneath him. He was down on his side, starting to crawl into the darkness of that room when he heard a small low voice ahead of him. “Who dares disturb my dark and private lair?”

 

"Christo! Christo!" Sammy responded automatically, his voice cracking.

 

His eyes were darting back and forth across the darkness of the room, trying to make out exactly where the second beast was hiding. Suddenly, there was a beam of light highlighting the face of it and Sammy squealed and flung himself backwards, his back and head colliding with the door frame with a very audible crack. Arms flailing and legs kicking, his little eyes welled up with tears at the pain. “Daddy…”

 

"Whoa..." John dropped the flashlight he’d been holding beneath his chin and scooped up his weeping youngest son, cradling the back up of his head. He checked for injuries, but found nothing more than a small rising lump. "Hey there, tiger. What's wrong?" 

 

"My head!" Sam sniffled. "I whacked it! It hurts! And we were hunting Uncle Bobby and now Dean's been left alone and ya said to never leave a man behind... and…and… my head hurts!"

 

John couldn’t hide the small grin that spread over his face. “You were going for the takedown, kiddo. It’s alright.” John sat back and helped Sammy up, thumbing away a few of the spilled tears. There was the sound of raucous laughter emanating from the kitchen doorway. “C’mon, now. Let’s get you some aspirin for your head.” He rustled Sammy’s hair and they started out the door with Sammy cradled against his chest.

 

Dean was half hanging off Bobby’s back when they came into the kitchen and all laughter stopped immediately. Dean started kicking and squirming to get down.

 

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean asked before he even hit the floor. 

 

John noticed that when Sammy saw Dean his sobs started up again. Sam was always his most emotional when he was around his brother. And knowing his youngest, Sammy was probably crying because he was trying so hard not to cry around his big brother. "It's not a big deal, Dean. He was just slightly injured in the line of duty."

 

Dean stopped for a moment, looking between Sam and his dad. Sammy was only six, still pretty young, but dad had told Dean that he couldn’t be coddled as much now. He needed to learn to be strong. There was still times that dad let it go, let Dean do what needed to be done. It didn’t just make Sammy happy, it made Dean happy, too. So now came the decision, check Sammy over or try to help him brush it off like a big boy.

 

"Are you bleeding, Sammy?" Dean asked. Sammy shook his head and sniffled. "All your limbs attached?" Sammy nodded. "Fingers and toes?" Sammy nodded again and wiggled his fingers at Dean. Dean nodded and looked very serious. "Then good work, soldier. Your plan worked to draw the monster out from his lair." 

 

"My plan?" Sammy sniffed, looking confused. 

 

"Yeah... your plan," Dean said. "Duh, you know... to pretend to be hurt, draw him out, thinking you're wounded. Good plan."

 

Sammy stared at Dean for a few moments, as if he’d gone and grown a second head. Slowly, his eyes got wider and he started nodding. “I did have a good plan! A very secret plan!” Sammy twisted back around to look at his dad and started bouncing in John’s arms. “My plan was so secret that I didn’t even know what it was until just now! I saved the day!”

 

"You're our very own lil' secret agent man," John praised and held on tighter. "Now ya wanna tell me what you were doing?"

 

Grinning, Sam straightened up in his father’s arms. “Me and Dean was huntin’ monsters.” Sammy glanced back at Bobby and then leaned in close. His words to his father were still very much audible by the whole crew in the room, but to Sammy it was as if it were a special secret between the two of them. “When Uncle Bobby snores, it’s kinda scary. So since there’s no monsters here, we was gonna play pretend that Uncle Bobby was the monster. He’s big like one, anyway.”

 

“It’s not just Uncle Bobby…” Dean corrected and rolled his eyes. “It’s you, too. When its night and he hears you, sometimes he gets scared.”

 

“He’s scared of our snoring…” John repeated back.

 

Dean nodded solemnly. “Yep. So I decided to hunt it… the snoring. Thought maybe of surprising you guys while you where sleeping at night, but didn’t think that was a good idea. Sammy’s scared of the dark, too.”

 

“I am *not* scared of the dark, Dean!” came the petulant reply, Sam’s round face blushing a deep red. 

 

"Of course not, Sammy," Dean tried to mollify him. He didn't mention that Sammy always shared the lower bunk bed. They had never slept alone since Sammy was a very tiny baby. Since before their mom died.

 

John looked from one child to the next, seeing the obvious lie there on Sam’s face. He could feel Sam wiggling and he let him down only to see Sammy take off at a full run out the kitchen door and down the hall.

 

“Sammy!” When his brother didn’t stop, Dean took off after him. Bobby and John exchanged an amused glance before the sound of the door slammed closed, followed by a flurry of pounding. “Sammy! Come on, open the door.”

 

“I HATE YOU, DEAN!”

 

Dean’s face fell when Sammy yelled those words. They were one of the few things Sammy could do to lash out to hurt Dean without fail.

 

Dean pounded on the door. “Aww, c’mon, Sammy. Open the door!”

 

“I still hate you!” Sammy yelled back. “You’re mean and a liar!”

 

Dean’s eyes started to tear up, but didn’t fall. “You don’t mean that!”

 

“You promised! You promised you’d never ever tell, cross your heart and hope to die, and you told him anyway!” 

 

John had heard enough, he started down the hall only to be halted by Bobby’s arm grabbing him by the shoulders. He started to say something when he heard the creak of the door hinges. All eyes were on the door as it opened. Dean started to say something and suddenly a Ninja Turtle sleeping blanket hit the boy straight in the face. As Dean was sputtering and flailing to get it off of him, a pillow hit the wall, a backpack came next, and then the resounding slam of the door as it was flung closed yet again.

 

That's when the tears shining in Dean's eyes started to fall, as he pushed the sleeping bag off his head. He turned hurt eyes to John and Bobby. "He doesn't want me to sleep with him..." he said, automatically explaining Sammy's action. "He... Dad? He needs me."

 

John motioned with his head for Dean to come back out into the kitchen. Dropping a hand to Dean’s shoulder for a quick squeeze as the boy walked past him, John gave a sigh and looked at Bobby. “Make some coffee?”

 

Dean wanted to obey his father and he started to follow him. But then he thought about Sammy... who was mad at him. Dean's feet seemed to freeze and he looked back at the door. "I'll just... I'll just wait him out." He pulled away from his father's hand on his shoulder and plopped down on the sleeping bag by the door. "He'll let me in."

 

“Dean, I wasn’t asking.” John let the sentence hang in the air. When Dean only dropped his gaze to the floor, he set about trying to keep his voice calm and yet still authoritative. “Dean Winchester, you will get up off of that floor right this minute and take yourself into the kitchen or I will do it for you.”

 

The only time Dean ever defied John was when it came to Sammy. Dean folded his arms over his chest and looked up defiantly at John. "He needs me! I'm staying!"

 

The door to the room suddenly flew open and Sam’s red face appeared again, this time hurling a magazine at Dean’s form sitting in the hallway. “I don’t need you cuz I’m not a baby anymore! I hope dad belts you one so good you can’t sit for a week!” The door slammed shut again, rattling the pictures hanging on both of the walls of the hallway. It was almost comical really. If John hadn’t been so infuriated at the way Dean was disobeying orders, anyway. He reached down and took a hold of the collar of Dean’s shift and bodily lifted him up.

 

But the fight had left Dean and he didn't struggle as John hauled him towards the kitchen. He didn't say anything when he was deposited in a chair. He just looked down at the floor and finally sighed. "You want me to go get your belt, sir?"

 

Flopping down into the chair opposite Dean, John let out an angry huff of breath. He took the cup of coffee that Bobby offered to him and took a quick sip before placing it on the table. “We’ll worry about that a little later.” When Dean finally looked up, both Bobby and John were watching him from across the table. He tried very hard to sit still but they way they just stared and stared at him made his skin feel tight and itchy. 

 

"M'sorry," Dean mumbled, scratching at a scab on the back of his hand.

 

“Duly noted. Now, time for a grown up discussion.” John watched as Dean slid down another inch, folding in on himself. Whenever the talking turned to Sammy, Dean would go protective. “I want the truth from you, Dean. You’ve already told me that Sammy’s afraid of the dark. I wanna know how long this has been going on and was there something that happened that caused it.” 

 

"I thought I took care of it," Dean mumbled under his breath.

 

John went to say something but Bobby held up his hand, effectively silencing him. “Dean, what scared him the last time in the dark?”

 

Dean chewed on his bottom lip for a moment. “The first time or the last time I had to help cure him of it?”

 

"Ah, shit," John growled and ran his hand over his hair. He always thought Sammy had been too young to remember anything. He had been a baby and always sensitive, but John just chalked that up to who he was. "He shouldn't be sleeping with you anymore, Dean. He's a big boy now."

 

“I’ve tried getting him to sleep by himself. It doesn’t work,” Dean answered, looking every bit like he was about to cry. “We’ve always shared a bed, always. Three nights in a row I made him sleep all by himself on the top bunk. I didn’t give in to him when he cried. He ended up sick. You remember? It was around the time you were in Nevada with the haunted house on Indian ceremonial ground. You came back here and told me I hadn’t been watching him good enough if he got sick like that.”

 

John's face hardened a bit. "He’s gonna have to learn the hard way then. His little stunt tonight shows that he wants to be independent and you're not letting him. Until I tell you different, you can sleep out in the living room. And no sneaking back into your room. I'll know."

 

“But, dad….”

 

"Don't sass your daddy, Dean," Bobby said. He had a sinking feeling about this whole thing, but he was going to support John.

 

Dean visibly slumped into his chair some more, arms folding over his chest. “Yes’ir.”

 

John leaned forward and pointed his finger at Dean. “Sit up proper and say it right.”

 

Dean's posture straightened. "Yes, sir. Thank you."

 

Nodding, John picked his cup of coffee back up and took a sip. “You’re excused from the table then. I want you to go outside and over to the barn. There’s quite a bit of junk that needs to be cleaned out. Get started on it.”

 

"Yes, sir," Dean replied again. He wanted to look back at the door that hid Sammy from him, but he knew his father didn't want that. He was treating Sammy like a baby. But what he didn't say was that he needed Sammy near him at night just as much as Sammy needed him. Because while Sammy feared the dark, Dean dreamed of flames.

 

Dinner was a rather silent affair. Sammy ate his food quickly, eyes never leaving his plate and only answering in ‘yes, sir’ or ‘no, sir’ the whole way through the meal. Dean was about the same except he kept sneaking glances at Sammy with a look of pain written plainly across his face. The only conversation was between John and Bobby.

 

Dishes were cleared away, the kitchen straightened up, and after dinner coffee and cocoa laid out. Bedtime was fast approaching and John was very interested in seeing how this played out for both of his boys.

 

They never said anything to each other, but followed their regular routine. Sammy tried to go to bed without brushing his teeth, but finally did with a glare from Dean. "There's a flash light under your pillow," Dean finally told him.

 

Not wanting to show an ounce of panic, Sammy simply shrugged his shoulders and climbed into the bottom bunk bed. It wasn’t until the door to the bedroom closed, that he turned and buried his face in his pillow. He hadn’t meant a single word of it and now he’d have to go and live with the consequences…which meant sleeping alone…without Dean…in the dark.

 

Dean was curled up in the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtle sleeping bag on the couch. All he could think about was how Sammy was alone. The living room was dark since his dad and Bobby were in the kitchen playing crib. Just along the walls, Dean swore he saw singe marks crawling and stretching in blacker than black tendrils. He squeezed his eyes shut, knowing it wasn't real. If there were flames, he would smell smoke.

 

He eventually managed to drift off into an uneasy sleep. Images and sense memories leapt out of his subconscious and it was like being back in the house all over again. He could feel baby Sammy in his arms, taste the thick smoke in the back of his throat. His feet were moving but the front door to the house was so very far away and the monster was behind him. Heat and flame licked along at his body as he squeezed tighter to his baby brother, trying so desperately to get outside of the house. His dream form tried to twist away from it and his real form did as well, dumping his body right onto the hardwood floor of Bobby’s living room.

 

John heard the loud thunk from the kitchen. "Dean, stop messing around and get back to sleep!"

 

Scrambling up from the floor, Dean tried to slow his breathing down. Bobby’s house, not his old house, he was safe here. He glanced over at the clock. It was only a little after midnight. He rubbed a hand along his elbow, feeling the bump that was already forming there from hitting the floor. He kicked his way out of the sleeping blanket, throwing it back onto the sofa before he stood up and headed down the hallway.

 

“Where do you think you’re going, son?”

 

“I have to use the bathroom.”

 

"I know you're checking on him," John snapped. "Get back on that couch, young man."

 

Whirling around on one foot, Dean stomped back to the couch, throwing himself face down onto the uncomfortable piece of possessed spring-poking furniture. “Can I have a glass of water?” he called out, his whole body was hot from the mixture of his dreams and his anger.

 

"NO!" John shouted back. "One more peep from you and you'll be sleeping in the barn."

 

Dean wasn’t sure how long he laid there but eventually sleep claimed him again. No dreams this time but he was still restless, turning this way and that on the narrow cushions of the couch with a vague sense of not moving too far or he’d end up on the floor again. When his eyes opened some time later, the light from the kitchen was gone and he could hear the snoring from down the hallway. He didn’t understand why he’d woken up. Taking a deep breath, he tried to listen for sounds outside of sawing logs and the creaks of Bobby’s old house… and that’s when he heard it.

 

"DEEEEEEEEEEAAAAAN!" The ear splitting cry broke through the silence of the house. "DEAN!"

 

That was all it took. He vaulted himself off the couch and came crashing down hard, blanket tangled around his ankles. He kicked out, knocking the coffee table over in his attempt to get free. Pain lanced through him but he kept moving, dragging himself free of the obstacle and scrambling to get to his knees. He wasn’t quite fast enough. He’d just made it up when Bobby’s bedroom door flew open. He was racing to beat his father to the bedroom door but never made it in time. John was in and Dean was suddenly airborne, Bobby’s tight grip around his waist and hauling him back towards the living room.

 

"NO! NO!" Dean yelled, struggling to get away from Bobby. "Sammy!"

 

"DEEEEAAN!" Came another wail from the bedroom.

 

Dean fought against Bobby’s grip but he couldn’t seem to get away. “Put me down! Bobby, lemme go to him!” The couch was coming into view again and he started cursing. He hated that couch, wanted to salt and burn the damn thing. “Sa-aa…” Bobby’s hand came up and covered Dean’s mouth, blocking off the yell.

 

“Calm down, Dean-o. Stop tryin’ ta fight me a second here and just wait.”

 

Dean could hear Sammy sobbing. He really didn’t mean to do what he did next, it just happened. “Ow! Damn it!” Bobby yelled, shaking his hand. “You bit me.” Dean saw his chance to get away, but Bobby had him pinned back on the couch in no time.

 

“You’re only makin’ it harder on Sammy carryin’ on this way, Dean. Just sit still for a few minutes and be quiet. Let your daddy talk to him a bit, get him calmed down.”

 

“I don’t see why you and dad get to share a room and I have to sleep out here on the couch,” Dean said petulantly.

 

Bobby shook his head and glanced down the hallway to closed bedroom door. Sammy was quieting down a bit, thank god. He turned his full attention back to Dean. “Your father and I got enough back problems that would rival a football team. The couch is not an option. You think sleepin’ out here is punishment for you? Think how Sammy’s feelin’ right now, kid. He’s use to havin’ you right there next to him. But this is what your father wanted. Sammy needs to learn this lesson, same way you did when you were little. We know what’s out there, in the dark. Your brother needs to learn a little bit of self-control. You give in to easily to him sometimes.”

 

"I don't..." Dean denied, shaking his head. “He just… Sammy’s special. I don’t care if he gets what he wants. I’m a big brother. I’m supposed to give in. And… and I don’t really remember sleeping by myself.”

 

Bobby sunk farther back into the couch, reaching one hand out to settle Dean back into his bed as well. “Your dad is damn determined on this one. He plans to see it through so you best harden yourself up for it…for you and Sammy’s sake.”

 

“Bobby…” Dean asked in a quiet voice, tossing in the sleeping bag. “If I said I was sorry… for whatever I did to make Dad mad, would he let Sammy sleep with me again? I… I could always stay on the top bunk… I don’t usually like to, because it’s up real high and I don’t like heights… and if… and if I told Sammy that, then do you think he’d stop hating me for saying he’s afraid of the dark, ‘cause I said I was afraid of something, too?”

 

Bobby sat silently for several moments, trying hard to wrap his head around a child’s logic. He wasn’t good at this sort of thing. Let him be the monster/beast/demon for the week and chase them around the house. Put him in a position like this and he suddenly felt as if he was sinking in quicksand. “Dean…I think this has more to do than your father or Sammy being mad at you. You know that what we do for a living is a lot different than most people. You should have told your dad about Sammy’s fear long before now and in private. I think Sam’s more upset with you about telling on him than anything and that’ll blow over. You’re kind of caught in the middle of all of this.”

 

Dean bit his lip and considered what Bobby said. "You're right... I screwed it, I have to fix it."

 

“Or,” Bobby leaned in close to Dean, “or you just wait it out, like I said. Sam’s fear ain’t gonna disappear over night. So you have to be strong. I got a mighty good feelin’ that after a few nights of this your father’s gonna wear down. Then you go swoopin’ in with your big brother and soldier instincts and offer him a solution to the problem.” Bobby touched a finger to the side of his nose. “Tactics and strategy, kid. It’s all about assessing the situation and going in for the kill.”

 

“I could…” Dean hesitated. “But dad says a real man knows when he messed up and should fix it. You don’t understand, Bobby… Sammy and dad need me. They both…” He was having trouble describing what he felt. “They do need me, right, Bobby?”

 

Bobby was ready to rip the hair right out of his head from trying to get his mind to work like a ten year old Winchester. He took a steadying breath. “Of course they both need you. What kind of question is that? Look, if you think you know how to handle this situation that’s going on…go for it. Just consider what I told you to be some sort of back up plan in case it doesn’t work.”

 

The sound of Sammy’s bedroom door opening and closing had Dean bolting upright on the couch. John’s face looked haggard and tightly drawn. Dean gulped and lay instantly back down.

 

****

 

No one got much sleep in the house that night, which led to some grumpy children and men the next day. The second night, Dean was back on the couch and Sammy started screaming for him around eleven o’clock at night. He was under strict instructions not to move from the couch. But his foot hit the floor when he heard Sammy screaming and sobbing out, “Don’t you love me anymore, Dean? I don’t hate you! I lied.”

 

“I wouldn’t do that if I were you,” came the less than happy growl from the kitchen.

 

Bobby stood up from the table and walked out into the mudroom, mumbling about overbearing fathers and stubborn kids as he went. He flung open the cabinet above the fridge and reached way into the back. Like hell if he was dealing with all this again tonight. He was gonna sleep if he had to smash himself off moonshine to do it. 

 

Then came the other cries of, "Daddy? Uncle Bobby? I'm sorry! I'll be a good boy if you give Dean back!"

 

That did it. Bobby stuck his head out of the mudroom and hissed. “John Winchester, I swear to every known deity on the face of this earth, if you don’t let that boy go back in with his brother I will personally kill you myself.”

 

"It's for his own good," John mumbled. "I won't give into a six year old." When Bobby gave him a hard look, "I won't give in *this* time to a six year old."

 

Bobby unscrewed the cap of his liquor and took a healthy swallow before he pointed a finger in John’s direction. “So, we all get to sit up late into the night until Sam goes and cries himself hoarse? Then we get to listen to Dean toss and turn half the night fighting his instinct to go and protect his brother, which I might add is what you explicitly told him to do from the very beginning. This means another morning will start with more cold shoulders and slamming doors followed by more shouting and screaming. Let it go, Winchester! There are some battles even *you* can’t win.” Bobby grabbed a hold of his denim jacket and shrugged himself into it. “I’m sleeping in the damn workshop…and I’m taking the hard liquor with me!”

 

John let him go and spent the night sitting at the kitchen table. He wasn't sure if it was sleep depravation or desperation on the third night. John had sent the boys to bed early, growling at them until they shuffled off with quivering lips. Sammy started calling for Dean again and John ignored it, but he couldn't ignore it when Sammy yelled out, "My mommy would let me have Dean!"

 

There was an audible gasp from the living room couch. The sound of a mug dropping too hard into the sink made John clench his own mug. He turned his eyes to Bobby’s back, watching as the man refused to turn around and face him. John groaned, pushed his mug out of the way and banged his head on the table. 

 

“Johnny, he’s your son…”

 

Voice muffled and filled with exhaustion and strain, John groaned. “My child is a brat.” Soft laughter reached his ears and John lifted his head from his arms. “Don’t you even start, Singer!” Pushing himself out of the chair, he started out into the other room. He saw Dean’s head go ducking back down behind the couch and he rolled his eyes. “Dean, get up. I know you’re awake.”

 

“I don’t want to go sleep in the barn!” Dean protested automatically, crawling deeper in to the sleeping bag and curling up into a ball at the end. He was tired, wanted to see Sammy and didn’t want to face the nightmares another night. “I was good, I didn’t leave the couch!”

 

“Barn’s already taken!” came the shouted reply from Bobby in the kitchen. “Damn workshop’s too close to the house. I can still hear him, had to move farther away.”

 

“Shut up, Bobby!” John yelled back, running a hand through his hair. “This is enough. No more, you hear me, Dean? Get your butt in that room and get your brother calmed down. If I don’t get some sleep in the next hour…”

 

Dean didn’t waste a second waiting for his father to even finish the sentence. He was so busy trying to get out of the sleeping bag that he fell onto the floor again. But he quickly squirmed out of it and, like a shot, was dashing towards the room Sammy was crying loudly in. He flung open the door and launched himself onto the bed, tackling his baby brother. “Sammy, shut up already,” Dean begged.

 

Sam’s face suddenly emerged from beneath the blankets and he stared with wide eyes at Dean for several long minutes before another bout of crying took over. “I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Dean! I’m not mad anymore!”

 

Dean sighed and wrapped his arms around his little brother, rubbing soothing circles on Sammy’s back. “I know, I’m not mad anymore either. But if you don’t stop cryin’ dad’s gonna come in here and he may make me sleep on the couch again. You don’t want that do you?”

 

Sam hiccupped a little and buried his face against Dean's neck. "N-No... but what if he tries to take you away again?”

 

Dean whispered into Sam’s ear, “Then you just scream at the top of your lungs and cry… call for Bobby… he’s easier to crack.”

 

“M’tired, Dean…and my eyes hurt.” Sammy gave a shuddering sigh, half asleep already. His one hand had fisted in Dean’s tee shirt and the other one was making its way towards his mouth, thumb already extended.

 

"I know..." Dean told him with a yawn and he hugged his brother harder. "M'sorry I said you were afraid of the dark, Sammy... and that I left you. I... I don't like sleeping on the top bunk... so we're all afraid of something."

 

Sammy’s little lips were happily sucking away on his thumb, his eyes closed and his breathing starting to even out when Dean finally went under himself. John slipped in through the partially open door and pulled the covers up a bit higher around them. He shook his head at the sight of them wrapped around each other. He stood there for a moments, just watching them both sleep, their faces completely at peace if not a little worse for wear from the lack of rest the last few days. John walked over and flipped the bathroom light switch on, closing the door almost all the way so only a small yellow strip of light fell across the bed before he went back out. It would have to do for now.

 

John headed back into Bobby’s room, finding the man already changed for bed and double checking the locks on the window. John shrugged out of his own clothes and dropped onto the mattress in nothing more than his boxers. He let out an audible sigh as rolled onto his stomach and rested his head no the cool pillow.

 

John felt Bobby's hand settle on the back of his neck, rubbing gently. "Some battles we aren't meant to win, Johnny-boy."

 

John stretched out a bit more on the bed, more tired than he’d ever been in his life. His whole body was strung with tension from the last three days of trying hard to hold onto his decision. He gave a groan when Bobby’s hand moved up a little and started pressing harder into the base of his skull. “It’s embarrassing to know that my six year old son can beat me at my own game.”

 

"There's always a bright side... even to this long, extended and oh so miserable last few days. One, we know the Winchester genes of pigheadedness have successfully been passed onto the next generation. And secondly, if he's willing to fight the people he loves so hard, just think about how deadly he'll be against his enemies."

 

John turned his head to look at Bobby with a smirk. “You been watching Oprah again? Now I know where Dean gets it from.” John laid his head back down for a moment, letting Bobby continue with the impromptu massage. “And who are your calling pigheaded anyway?”

 

"Oprah just happens to be on after the kids’ favourite cartoons," Bobby grumbled and then leaned into kiss the base of John's neck where it met his shoulders. He tugged down the ratty old t-shirt to expose more skin for his search. "Callin' you pigheaded, Winchester."

 

“And you’re thinking that insults are gonna let you get into my pants tonight?” John relaxed into the touch of Bobby’s lips on his skin, too tired to try to fight it off. “Besides, your bed’s all made up in the barn. You mentioned earlier how nice and peaceful it was out there…all by yourself.”

 

"Neither of us have slept barely a wink in three days," Bobby snorted with amusement. When John was tired like this, some of his guard slipped. Bobby managed to roll him onto his side, pulling John back into his grasp, unprotesting. Only problem was, he was just as beat as John. "You wouldn't be able to get it up..." 

 

“Oh I could get it up alright, but I don’t wanna make you feel like any less of a man when I fall asleep on you,” John snickered. “Just shut off the light already. I’m gonna sleep straight through to dinner time tomorrow if I can.”

 

Bobby pawed tiredly at the bedside table, grabbing the alarm clock and pulling until the cord was yanked from the wall. Then he switched off the lamp and collapsed back next to John. "Oh sleeping in sounds like a good idea. But when you're hellions come bounding in here expecting to be fed, you are so taking your punishment like a man..."

 

"And that would be?"

 

"Pancakes, Winchester."


End file.
